


Guilt

by Ellie226



Series: Mark/El [13]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Cutting, Daddy Kink, F/M, References to Suicide, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:35:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because something isn't your fault, doesn't mean that you won't feel guilty about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

I had come home from work early, and by the time he arrived, I had cleaned the house and started dinner. The table was set, and I was sitting in front of my lamp coloring a mandala, the chili was simmering on the stove, and a pan of cornbread waiting to go into the oven.

Standing behind me, he hugged me, my back resting on his chest. “What did I do to deserve dinner all done when I got home?” he asked me.

“Just got home early,” I shrugged out of his embrace and focused on my colored pencils. 

“I thought you were staying to catch up on paperwork?” he asked, walking to the sink to wash his hands.

I stood up to check the chili. “Decided I didn’t want to.” I kept the tone of my voice light; I didn’t want him to know something was wrong.

It didn’t work. Daddy was remarkably aware of what constituted normal for me, and tonight wasn’t doing it. He walked over to stand in front of me, blocking my path. “What happened Baby? You’re upset.”

I swallowed hard and didn’t look up, “I had a client kill himself today. Or I guess, he did it yesterday or Wednesday maybe.” My voice was calm.

“Oh sweetheart. I am so sorry. What happened?”

“You know that guy that I told the Judge not to let his kids come home yet? Because he had lied about finishing therapy? He-um..He shot himself. They found the body today.” I tried to move around him, “I need to finish dinner.”

Daddy reached down to grab my hands and open them. I hadn’t even noticed that I was clenching my fists, but there were little cuts where my nails had dug into my palms. Towing me to the sink, he began washing them out carefully.

“Daddy, stop! They’re fine,” I tried to pull away.

“They’re not fine,” he replied, swatting me once then pinning me between his body and the sink, “You don’t hurt yourself Eleanor Rose.”

I winced as he cleaned out the cuts, but there wasn’t really anywhere for me to go. When Daddy was finished, he walked me over to the stool in front of my lamp and lifted me up. “Sit here while I finish dinner.”

“I want to do it,” I tried to slide off the stool so that I could finish up. Rather than making it to the stove, I was unceremoniously picked up and placed back on the stool.

“Well, I want you to sit there and color while I finish up.”

I sat sullenly as Daddy moved around the kitchen. He could make me stay on the stool, but he couldn’t make me color. 

I was quiet, scowling at Daddy and waiting for him to notice that I wasn’t going to color. He was too bossy, and he needed to understand that he couldn’t always just make me do something for no reason.

He was busy at the sink, his back to me, washing dishes, when he began talking to me conversationally, “You know, I’m not going to spank you Eleanor.”

I sat silently, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

“I know you feel bad Baby, but you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not going to spank you because something happened at work; you might as well stop trying to bait me into doing it.”

“I’m not,” I objected.

“Really? Because I don’t know any other reason why you would decide to stop coloring just because I told you to finish your picture.”

“Don’t want to color anymore.”

Turning the oven off, Daddy walked over to me and picked me up, Carrying me into the living room, we sat in the rocker together.

I wiggled. “We need to finish dinner Daddy.”

“We will. We’re just going to sit here for a while.”

“I don’t want to talk with you.”

“That’s fine,” he replied, rocking slowly and smoothly. “We’re just sitting. I didn’t say anything about talking.”

I sat stiffly, fuming. I didn’t want to talk about today. He always thought that he could fix stuff, and he couldn’t, and I didn’t want to talk.

Daddy was quiet, rocking the chair and ignoring my obvious discontent. After sitting still for a while, I tried to get up again, struggling against him.

“I’m hungry. We need to finish dinner.”

“We will. We’re just going to sit for a while,” he gently restrained me, pulling me down so that I was pressed against him, one hand playing with my hair and the other hand across my torso. “Settle down. You’re fine.”

I finally stopped fighting him. I was still mad, but he wasn’t letting me move. We rocked silently for a while, and he kept carding his fingers through my hair, in the same rhythm as the rocking of the chair.

“He left a note,” my voice was small. Daddy didn’t say anything.

“He said that he did it because he wanted his kids to come home,” I paused. “I guess he figured if he was gone, they could go to their mom.” My voice was quiet, but steady. “When they called, Sarah asked if I thought it might have been something we did...then we heard about the note.”

“Oh Princess. Your boss shouldn’t have said that. You work with people who have big problems. You can’t always help them. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m sure that will be a relief to his kids. I’ll have to remember to tell them that on the way to the funeral.”

“You’re not going to the funeral.” Short and to-the-point. Like he just expected me to not do my job.

“The kids know me. They need to go, and they can’t go without an agency rep. It needs to be me, not some stranger.”

“Eleanor, I want you to listen to me,” he paused, “Are you listening to Daddy?”

I nodded my head.

“You are not going to the funeral. The family is angry. I understand that you feel responsible, but you are not. We talked about this before. Healthy people do not hurt themselves because they’ve had a bad day. Healthy people recognize that hurting themselves won’t fix anything. This man, I feel badly, but he had something wrong with him. You did not cause this, and I’m not going to let you walk into a situation where you might get hurt because you feel guilty.”

I started struggling. I wanted away from Daddy. I didn’t want to sit on his lap or have him stroke my hair or exonerate me. 

Daddy let me go, and I stalked away from him to the window. Staring out, my back to him, I started talking rapidly.

“I made a judgement call, and now he’s dead. I should cry. Normal people would cry about something like this. All day, I kept waiting to to cry, but I can’t. I don’t feel it Daddy. It’s like there’s nothing there.” I hugged myself, not able to look at him. “You know how everyone at work jokes that I’m dead inside because I never cry? I guess they’re right.” I rocked gently on my heels.

I jumped when he came up behind me, his hands sliding down my arms and crossing over my hands. He tugged me back toward him. “You’re not dead inside. You’re like an exposed nerve all the time El. You feel everything so much that you don’t let yourself stop to think about it.”

I didn’t say anything, just shaking my head back and forth. He was wrong. There was something wrong with me; why didn’t he see it?

Daddy turned me around so that I was facing him, and he pulled me into a tight hug. “I love that you care so much Princess. It’s one of the most amazing things about you...” he trailed off and we stood silently for a minute before he started again. “I think sometimes it’s easier for you to get angry than to let yourself be sad.”

I tried to push myself away from him, “Stop Daddy.”

“Stop what?”

“It’s my fault,” I burst out, my voice verging on hysteria. “It’s my fault, and I can’t even cry about it. I’m not sad about it. Those kids are going to have to grow up without a father. I did that to them. What kind of monster doesn’t care about that?”

He grabbed me by my upper arms and shook me once, hard. “Stop it Eleanor. Calm down”

I fell abruptly silently, staring at him.

“You did not cause this Baby. I am so sorry that you feel like it’s your fault, but it isn’t. It’s okay to be sad or angry about what he decided to do, but you do not get to blame yourself. Understand?” He pulled me back against his chest, hugging me tight.

“I love you so much Sweetheart. I wouldn’t if you were a horrible monster. You are such a good little girl, and I love you.”

I let out a strangled sob, and finally, the tears I had been waiting for all day started pouring down my cheeks. “He died Daddy. He died, and his wife blames me and his kids are going to hate me, and maybe they should. If I hadn’t told the Judge to not send them home-”

Daddy cut me off, “if you hadn’t told the Judge not to send the kids home, maybe he would have shot them and himself. You don’t know what he would have done. Your job is to make sure those kids are safe. You have to make the best decisions you can with the information you have at the time, and then you have to let it go.”

I didn’t say anything. After everything that had been said that day, having Daddy say it wasn’t my fault was a relief. What he said next, not so much.

“This can’t keep happening Ellie. The next time you let yourself get this worked up, there are going to be consequences.”

“You said you weren’t going to spank me! You said it wasn’t my fault!”

He walked us over to the chair and sat down, pulling me into his lap. “What happened at work wasn’t your fault; your decision to not call Daddy when you started feeling bad was. The next time something happens to make you upset, you call me. We can talk about it instead of you getting yourself worked up. Understand?”

I didn’t say anything, but I could tell I was pouting.

“Hey! I asked if you understood what Daddy just told you.”

“I can’t call you all the time Daddy. I’m not a baby; I can’t just interrupt you at work.”

“I want you to listen to me: nothing that happens at my work or your work is more important than you being okay. If you don’t understand that, it might be time to talk about whether you should find a new job.”

“I don’t want to quit!” I protested, my voice high with outrage.

“Then you need to agree to call Daddy when you get upset.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, you just have to obey me.”

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” I tried to pull away from Daddy to get some space, but he held me on his lap, starting the chair rocking again.

“Hold still Princess, we’re going to sit here for a while and rock.” I kept struggling for a moment, until he began playing with my hair again. Settling back against him, I tried to focus on that sensation and forget about work.

When I woke up, I was tucked in bed, dressed in the camisole I’d worn to work and panties. It was dark. I didn’t know where Daddy was. I sat up, panicked. “Daddy!” I cried out.

He came running into the room. “What’s wrong Princess? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I woke up, and you weren’t here. I thought you had left.”

“Oh Baby Girl,” he sat down behind me on the bed and pulled me against him, “I’m sorry. That must have been scary.”

I nodded my head silently, thumb in my mouth.

“Go back to sleep Sweetheart. Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

“Promise,” I mumbled around my thumb, even as I felt my eyelids getting heavy.

“Yeah, I promise,” Daddy’s voice was a soothing rumble in my ear, and I fell asleep, feeling the best I had all day.


End file.
